


Killing Slavers

by Bowm8935



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood and Gore, M/M, anders is sneaky, justice is a badass, killing lots of slavers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt by mikkeneko:<br/>I want a fic where Anders gets captured by slavers – drugged, knocked out, chained up, and dragged off to their hideout<br/>…upon reaching which he stands up, glowing blue, snaps the chain apart with a casual twist of his wrists, proceeds to kill all the slave traders and free all the slaves.<br/>Because it’s just a lot easier to find their hideouts when they do all the work of bringing you there, you see.<br/>(Justice doesn’t approve of the deception, but he can see that it gets results, so he’ll go along with it.)<br/>(Fenris approves.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killing Slavers

A flash of blue prodded at the deep recesses of the mind, serving to awaken a sleeping soul. Anders blearily opened his eyes- or eye, rather, since his right one was currently swollen shut, no doubt the work of the men he fought before- attempting to work past the grit and discharge that was currently trying to keep his lashes glued shut. He wearily endeavored to raise a hand to help clear it away, annoyed but unsurprised to find his hands bound behind him in shackles. The chains jingled at his movement, an unwelcomely loud noise causing his head to throb with a headache- the side effect of whatever he was drugged with most likely. He rolled onto his side from his belly, groaning at the pain the ripped its way up his body. At least one, most likely two cracked ribs. Maneuvering himself into a kneeling position with an ease that betrayed how often he was in this position, he leaned back to sit on his heels, rolling his shoulders to try to release some tension. Sighing, he let his healing magic curl throughout his body, knitting together the broken ribs, fixing a swollen ankle and clearing away his headache, but leaving his black eye alone.

He didn’t want to give away his secret weapon, after all.

The slavers had found him alone on the Wounded Coast on his weekly trip to gather elfroot, and upon realizing who they were, he had slid his staff under a nearby bush and allowed them to capture him, playing at being nothing special. He knew his looks helped, lust driving many of the sales of slaves in Tevinter. Any time he was alone, he just let them capture him.

It was easier that way to eliminate them. After all, they brought him back to their hideout, where he could study their ranks and weaknesses and wipe them out.

He took a moment to look around, to figure out where he was. It was dark, save one lone candle flickering in the corner, casting a very small glow in the room. The rough walls curved into a ceiling that held stalactites hanging precariously over him; a cave, then. He shook his head, disappointed at the obvious choice. Slavers _always_ seemed to pick the dark, dank caverns, perhaps assuming it was less likely they’d be discovered.

A scraping noise across the wall alerted him to the arrival of his captors. He hunched his shoulders to look properly defeated, head bowed. Footsteps rounded the corner and approached him, a rough hand grabbing onto his chin and pulling his face up. He looked into the worn face of a middle-aged man, scraggly black hair falling into brown eyes. The hand moved his chin, tilting his face to allow a better look at his features as the man observed him.

“Yes, he’ll do. Those ‘vints’ll pay nicely for a looker like this.” The hand dropped, grabbing onto his arm and roughly yanking him up. “But that don’t mean we can’t have _our_ fun first.” A loud cheer burst from behind him, punctuated by cruel laughter, the voices of both men and women overlapping in sick excitement.

 **Enough**. Anders felt his hands start to shake as Justice plowed forward, the ethereal hum that accompanied the fade flowing through his body overtaking him. He retreated back, giving up control of his body, knowing Justice was more than enough to win the battle. His veins glowed a bright blue, giving his skin the distinct look of splitting. He felt the tug of the chain on his wrists as Justice snapped it with ease, doing the same with the one around his ankles. He relished the look of fear that blossomed across the slavers’ eyes as they watched what they surely thought was an abomination rise before them.

Magic thrummed throughout him as Justice parted the veil, calling forth lighting to ricochet around the room, catching a few of the slavers off guard and frying them before they could react. In the shocked silence after, Justice darted forward and scooped up a discarded sword, prepared to battle. Anders felt the ripple of his muscles as Justice thrust, sliced and blocked, casually making his way through the remaining group with ease, leaving a trail of blood and carnage behind him. Soon, only the leader was left, on his knees before him, begging for mercy. Without hesitation, Justice lopped off his head, tossing the sword to the side. **Justice is served.**

With that, he relinquished control back to Anders, who surged forward and stumbled with the sudden ability to use his own limbs. Sore muscles overwhelmed him, and he staggered over the closest wall, leaning against it as he once again let his magic flow throughout him, finally healing his eye as well as relieving his pain. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off the wall and strode over to a discarded staff, picking it up and giving it an experimental twirl. Satisfied with his find, he set it aside, leaning over to help himself to some clothes.

Once fully dressed, he grabbed the staff again, making his way to the cacophony of wails he heard from a nearby room, ready to release the remaining slaves.

Justice may not approve of his methods, deceiving those who would sell him in a heartbeat, but he was always satisfied with the results. So was Anders.

And so was Fenris, his lover.

He felt a smile tug at the side of his lips as he thought about going home, and the surely sweet recompense that awaited him upon his return from killing a nest of slavers.

He loved doing this.


End file.
